


Of Surprises/Of Prayers

by orphan_account



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Comrades in Arms, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Love, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Mild Smut, Minor Violence, Rare Pairings, Short One Shot, sensual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-10-17 22:43:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10603815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Lon'qu is surprised by Libra again and again, and discovers that he doesn't mind surprises--not when they involve beautiful, terrifying, golden-haired battle-priests. Bonus chapter, Of Prayers--Libra prays but the answer is not what he expects...it's something far better.





	1. Of Surprises

Libra was a terrifying sight on the battlefield, Lon’qu was surprised to notice. Strange what one could observe in the mental silences amidst thundering, blood-soaked violence. Lon’qu felt the blade of his sword slide neatly between what maybe were the ribs of the monstrous thing slavering in front of him while a maelstrom of light and gold descended upon the creature from behind. A hoarse roar preceded the flash of axe-blade and drops of blood that glinted in the air like jewels as the Risen’s head thudded to the ground.

It all happened in a blink. Lon’qu, one of the fastest blades at the Shepherds’ disposal, barely had time to register the priest meeting his gaze before descending in holy wrath upon his next kill.

When Lon'qu saw Libra kneeling beside a wounded archer after the battle, hair a golden curtain over his now-serene face, he could not help feeling that the priest before him was an entirely different man than the gore-spattered, avenging angel he’d met on the field.

He found himself studying Libra in the following weeks, both in and out of combat. He catalogued the other man's routines only to realize he'd begun training at the same times as Libra, observing him more often in the mess tent or, recently, bathing with a group of soldiers as the Shepherds often did for safety’s sake. That day, the priest had easefully deflected Vaike’s rowdy attempts to lure him into a water-fight, Virion’s unintentionally off-putting comments on the smoothness of his skin (really, it was gorgeous to behold…enough to trigger Lon’qu’s phobia if he thought on it too long), and Frederick’s bullish insistence that he sign up for something called ‘fanatical fitness hour,’ for Ylisse of course.

Lon'qu tried (futilely) not to notice how that water-darkened blond hair looked falling down Libra’s wet, muscled back, or how Libra tarried in water that hid _just_ enough, the dip of his navel, those narrow hips sloshed by wavelets. Lon’qu focused instead on how the other man left only goodwill in his wake. Everything Libra did, or said, was graceful and beautiful to watch--that is, until he was on the battlefield.

 _That_ , Lon’qu thought, was another type of beauty altogether--one that was couched in the efficacy of the priest’s exquisitely ferocious and unyielding attacks.

Lon’qu should not have been surprised when Libra began to notice his attentions. He was a subtle man, but he was crossing paths with the golden-haired priest far too regularly for the other man not to pause, assessing, something warm and electric telegraphing in their exchanged looks. Eventually, Libra began to follow him, too, and Lon'qu tried not to read too much into the other man's presence.

Soon Libra spoke to him regularly, in his gently succinct way, usually during combat drills or after skirmishes. One particularly balmy night, he joined Lon’qu at the mess table, praying quietly over his meal before nodding at the other man. Lon’qu bowed his own silent greeting, trying not to think about the fire in the eyes hidden behind that curtain of spun gold, or how Libra’s serenity soothed over him in nearly palpable waves of much-needed peace. Lon’qu relished the other man's company, and hoped that Libra could sense the fervent if unspoken acceptance and admiration he offered the warrior-priest.

They fell easily into a routine both on and off the field. A dance of blood and efficient brutality in one place, and quiet understanding in all others.

If Lon’qu was a little surprised when Libra began to talk to him in depth, to tell him more of his sometimes dark past each day, he was stunned to find the other man waiting for him outside his tent in the middle of a torrential rainstorm, a look of raw intensity on his face, the question unasked.

Lon’qu perhaps should _not_ have been surprised to find himself naked, skin slick from rain and oil and sweat, rutting into Libra with passion bordering on violence, subjecting himself to kisses that were more teeth than tongue and to dull fingernails scoring his back. Maybe he should not have been surprised to hear Libra’s name spilling from his lips like the prayers the priest whispered over his meals or before a battle...to hear Libra moaning _his_ name, the two syllables shaken and staccato from the impact of Lon’qu’s hilt-deep thrusts.

All of the signs had been there.

The way Libra would wet his bottom lip with his tongue as he gazed at Lon’qu for just a little too long, face flushed and hair wild from a particularly vigorous spar. The way Lon’qu found himself hovering at the priest’s side, holding open tent flaps, offering him the seat not in blinding, full-west sunlight during outdoor evening meals, and waking up in the middle of the night, aching and hard from dreams that he felt no shame for.

He should have known he was falling.

As he forced himself to breathe, body trembling from the enormity of his climax, Lon’qu was strangely relieved to hear himself panting the words that had grown like orchards in his heart, slow in winter then riots of blossom after the thaw.

_I love you. I love you, Libra._

He was surprised _and_ relieved and shot through with fierce joy when he heard the exhausted but sated reply whispered into his futon--

_I love you too, Lon’qu._

Lon’qu decided, draped over this gorgeous, complex man, utterly spent--he could get used to these kinds of surprises.

He decided that he welcomed them.

 


	2. Of Prayers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prayers are answered, but not in any way Libra expects. A bonus chapter in which we see the events from Of Surprises from Libra's point of view.

Libra knelt with his head low so that his hair dragged on the dusty ground. He was alone in the tent that served as the camp’s makeshift temple, praying in the darkness. He’d not bothered to light candles--others would be better served by their light, and he knew his surroundings well.

_I come here with a disquiet heart and muddled mind._

_I come here with hopes I should not hold and desires that I should not feel._

_I pray unto Naga for the strength I need to do what is right._

_I pray unto Naga for the strength to think beyond myself._

_I pray unto Naga…but all I want is_ him _. I cannot pretend otherwise._

_I pray unto Naga that these thoughts of him will cease haunting me._

When Libra stood, dizzy from bowing for so long, he realized he was shaking. He had not thought to eat. He had scarcely slept the night before and the sleep he had stolen was full of nightmares where he was kicked out of the warmth of his home and left, bloody and broken, to starve.

Nights like these were lonely, messy things even if Libra was long used to such loneliness. Though, the Shepherds were changing things. People here seemed truly to care for others...an entirely new concept to Libra, at least outside of the church. Two people in this camp had even seen the darkness Libra carried within his heart. The Plegian dark mage obsessed with Robin had astutely unearthed this ugly morass, thrilled by it in a way that both intrigued and depressed Libra. If _she_ thought he was a broken mess, was there hope of anyone thinking him worth the while and effort?

Libra barely dared consider the other one. _Him_ , the beautiful and deadly Chon’sin swordsman the Shepherds had enlisted in Regna Ferox. _Lon’qu._ Taciturn, fierce, and the sort of man who lived and breathed combat. Everything about him was knife-sharp and driven by purpose. Yet Libra felt something _else_ in Lon’qu’s demeanor…sensed it in the way an animal might sense an approaching storm.

Something drove the gifted swordsman beyond his thirst to prove himself in battle. As Libra found himself fighting side by side with the other man, Lon’qu’s barely-there greetings and subtle niceties grew more common. Libra would sense a presence at his back, see a shadow fall into place alongside his as he walked to the mess tent.

Sometimes, Lon’qu would block Libra’s path, eyes narrowed in disapproval. He would chide Libra, tell him how his entire left side had been too exposed in battle, how he had come too near to taking a fatal hit in trying to mow down the risen at Lon’qu’s flank, how he needed to be more careful…

“You fight as if you carry a death-wish. I will not have it,” Lon’qu had told him last week, leaving no room for Libra to object or even reply.

Libra was still shaken at being seen through, at being _known_.

He prayed for nearly an hour today—the most he could spare in the midst of camp duties. Now, the night gathered but also roiling clouds split through with lightning. Something in Libra hummed—electric like the coming storm, aching like an old scar, restless and wild.

_The prayers are not working._

Libra, the knees of his robes dirt-stained, his hair wind-blown, began walking. The first raindrops were icy but did nothing to cool the conflagration licking at the priest’s heart.

_I am a sinner. I am a fool…I am going out of my head. But I am only a man…_

Libra picked up his pace. With a roar of wind, the storm hit in earnest. He stood outside Lon’qu’s tent, not caring that his hair was soaked through or that the coarse white cloth of his robes plastered inelegantly to his body.

Someone drew closer in a quickening splash of footsteps—

_I cannot stop now._

Libra moved in front of the entrance to the other man’s tent, gazing in challenge at Lon’qu who watched him between flashes of lightning.

“Libra,” the other man murmured, water dripping from shaggy brown hair, drops rolling down his cheek and along the strong line of his jaw. He reached around Libra, so close they were nearly chest to chest, and tugged open the tent flap. “Inside,” he said simply.

Libra obeyed.

He barely made it through into the relative dryness and warmth before Lon’qu was upon him. Libra hadn’t realized the other man was shorter than him, or that, even damp, his tousled hair would be so soft. He’d had no idea how good sword-calloused fingers could feel scraping over his bottom lip, down his neck to his chest—

“ _Mmm_ ,” was all Libra could say. When Lon’qu pressed warm, greedy lips to Libra’s throat, he could make no sound at all. He clutched idly at Lon’qu’s fur-trimmed sleeve, letting his fingers wander down to grasp stone-firm bicep muscles.

 _I prayed for strength. Is_ this _what I was really asking for?_

Libra’s breath caught and his entire body shuddered when Lon’qu’s hand slid under layers of vestments, trailing chills over his belly.

“Libra,” Lon’qu intoned his name again, this time low and husky in his throat. “Do you…do you _want_ this?”

“Lon'qu--yes. _Please_ ,” he heard himself beg. “I need you.”

Libra wondered vaguely if such a thing could ever be in line with divine will as Lon’qu’s strong, steady fingers worked at the belt and myriad fastenings of his raiment, cleverly teasing away stubborn layers. He barely registered Lon’qu shucking his own clothes, standing so close to him in nothing but smallclothes.

Libra only knew that he came alive the moment Lon’qu took his lips in a sweetly hesitant kiss. That he himself was the one to deepen it, surrounded by the faint-sweat and soap smell of the other man, spurring his swordsman into frantic heat and lust-thick curses with unsubtle rocking of his hips and filthy promises whispered into Lon’qu’s neck. That he himself was the one to say, crude and obscene, _exactly_ where he wanted Lon’qu’s hands, lips, and...other things while the other man raked fingers through Libra’s long hair, trembling, before complying with his directives.

“Yes! Yes, please yes,” Libra wrapped his own fingers around the other man’s where they had circled his length.

“You are _sure_?” Lon’qu rasped into Libra’s ear even as he squeezed tighter, hand moving with purpose.

“Merciful gods, _don't stop_ ,” Libra panted, then moaned, the words broken, fading into nothing. He could only watch Lon’qu now, mesmerized by how the other man’s lean, strong body moved to heighten and deliver Libra’s pleasure, how Lon’qu’s gaze sought his own, searching, begging the answer to a question that Libra answered when he spilled his release far too fast into the other man’s fingers.

That he answered when, for the second time that day, he dropped to his knees but this time--not to pray, but to be the one worshiped.

Careful and confident fingers, sighed praises, reverent tongue and lips—Lon’qu offered him such gifts that Libra felt he might burst, or fade away in shimmers of bliss. And when the other man moved beyond teasing and tempting, Libra ascended to a new plane altogether.

“Libra…gods, my beautiful Libra…”

Libra found himself on his hands and knees, crushed to Lon’qu’s rain and sweat-slicked chest, oiled and stretched and…

“Lon’qu!”

Lon'qu's powerful hands gripped Libra's hips, guiding him slowly at first then digging almost painfully into his skin as the other man lost himself. Libra heard Lon'qu hiss a breath of naked pleasure through his teeth, seated fully, before pushing in nearly to the hilt. Libra cried out, raw and unashamed as he arched his back and jerked his hips, driving his lover deeper than before.

 _Full. I feel him in every part of me._ So _full._

So painfully, deliciously and obscenely full. Libra reached behind him to touch any bare skin he could find.

 _So full of his desire--desire for_ me _, not for just any man--_

Libra felt his teeth rattle in his head, rutted so hard his knees scraped into the ground. He gloried in the feral intensity of it, his breath knocked rhythmically from his chest—

_Filling places I didn't know were empty--_

Full of his lover, desperate and hard. His mind, buzzing and full of thoughts about hope. His heart—full. His insides full of wet heat as his Lon’qu slammed against him, breath hitching with his release—

“I love you. I love you, Libra.”

Full of something that threatened to untether him from the earth, every prayer answered, as Libra heard himself replying in a wrecked voice, “I love you too, Lon’qu.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love this ship in a way that HURTS and I got to thinking that I wanted to see what happens from Libra's perspective this time. He is a very different man than Lon'qu, after all--it's why I think they compliment each other so well. So while the content is nothing new, I hope anyone who likes this rarepair as much as I do enjoys this! <3<3<3

**Author's Note:**

> I started this three years ago and never finished it, which is kind of odd b/c it's so short in the first place but another rare pairing that I love and cannot seem to get enough of, ever. Thanks as always for reading! <3


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